


Even Sweeter Like This

by minbins



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Assistant Librarian Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bad Pickup Lines, Begging, Blowjobs, Bottom Seo Changbin, Changbin is an Endearing Dork, Changbin's Blatant Hyung Kink, Come Swallowing, Cute Ending, DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS I DO NOT CONSENT TO REPOSTING, Frat Boy Seo Changbin, Getting Together, Homoerotic Car Washing, Implied Verse Roles in Future, M/M, Minbin CUTE, Minho is a FOOL, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Piercings, Pining, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Spin the Bottle, Top Lee Minho | Lee Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minbins/pseuds/minbins
Summary: Changbin isn’t shirtless, but the alternative is somehow worse.
Relationships: Lee Minho | Lee Know/Seo Changbin
Comments: 42
Kudos: 731
Collections: SKZ Fuckfest





	Even Sweeter Like This

**Author's Note:**

> My interpretation of Prompt 46! _(person A’s frat needs to serve community service because they overstepped some of the college’s boundaries, offered to give free car washes to students and staff, person B get a free car wash and a soaking wet (perhaps shirtless) person A against their windshield)_
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

Minho always gets _looks_ when he goes to a party. 

Seungmin and Jisung say it’s because he’s hot, but Minho is pretty sure it’s just the novelty of seeing the librarian’s assistant in an out-of-work context. He has something of a ‘good boy’ reputation, stemming from his top grades and model profession, and he doesn’t do much to dissuade it. There are worse reputations to have, and Minho doesn’t mind that sometimes it means people assume he’s a virgin. _Minho is no virgin by any means, and it’s always fun to see the realisation dawning on a partner expecting easy inexperience._ He’s open to getting laid tonight, but he isn’t desperate— it hasn’t been too long, and he’ll have to leave early to make his 9am class if he stays over at anyone’s place. Of course, they could always come to his apartment, but Minho doesn’t often let that happen unless he’s already friends with whoever he’s sleeping with that night. 

There’s a cute straight guy staring at him, someone he’s pretty sure is from Chan and Felix’s frat, and Minho stares right back until he blushes and looks away. That’s something Minho is also used to: curious attention. Minho’s wearing makeup tonight, and that tends to turn heads. Jae and Younghyun have often complained to Minho about how there’s barely any LGBT+ people in their frat, the only other examples springing to mind being Felix and Chan, so Minho isn’t expecting this guy to be, even if he’s staring. Unfortunately, Minho knows good and well that straight men sometimes want to ‘try him out’. Experience speaks for itself. He leans over to Jisung, who is sitting next to him in the assembled circle. They’ve all gathered to play party games, and are waiting for Jackson to come back from the kitchen with a bottle. “Who’s starey-guy at 6 o’clock?”

Jisung looks over, then leans in to whisper back. “That’s Changbin— he’s on the same music course as Chan and I.”

“Ever seen him with a guy?”

“No, never seen him with a girl either, though. Why, you interested?”

“Just intrigued.” Minho doesn’t like the risk of entertaining possibilities that might smack him in the face. It isn’t worth it.

“Hot, isn’t he, though?” Jisung remarks casually. He isn’t slick— Minho knows he’s trying to gauge his level of interest. Minho _isn’t_ interested.

He hums noncommittally. “I suppose.”

His disinterest is entirely feigned to get Jisung off his back, and they both know it. Still, Jisung thankfully doesn’t push him on the topic. Minho looks back across the circle. The straight guy (Minho makes himself assume as such) is looking at him again. Minho’s considering asking him if he has something on his face, but then Jackson places an empty vodka bottle in the centre of the circle.

The first spin is handed over to Greg Something-Or-Other, a guy Minho vaguely remembers from a repressed mandatory biology class in his first year. He spins it, and it lands on an unimpressed looking Mark, who could not more clearly be disinterested in poor Greg. They brush lips chastely, and the turn passes on to Hyunjin, who doesn’t even _pretend_ to not be cheating, spinning the bottle and deliberately stopping it with his hand when it’s pointing at his boyfriend. After they’re all treated/subjected to the sight of Hyunjin making out with Jinyoung for at least a minute, he crawls back across the circle and passes the turn to Starey-Guy. Minho hears Hyunjin call him Changbin. 

It’s a pretty name, not that Minho cares. 

_Changbin spins his turn._

Minho wonders if he should have been expecting it, when it lands on him. Perhaps it’s a _fuck you_ from the universe, after having just decided to ignore Changbin’s gaze. He wonders who’s going to go over to who, and is considering doing it himself to get everything over with when Changbin moves. It’s all too pretty, Changbin crawling across the circle to Minho, eyes on him and him alone. Minho tells himself that it’s the one singular drink he’s had that’s making his head spin, that he isn’t that attracted to the devastatingly cute boy that hasn’t stopped upon reaching him, moving to sit in his lap instead. Minho lets out a soft little _oh_ as it catches up with him somewhat belatedly, Changbin’s legs hooked around his hips and his arms looped around Minho’s neck. “I-”

“What?” Changbin asks, tilting his head. Minho can’t tell if the confusion is real, or if he’s teasing him. “Am I not doing it right? This is what Hyunjin did…”

A _frat boy_ who’s never played spin the bottle seems unlikely at best, but a stupid (horny) part of Minho is wont to indulge him. Changbin’s in his lap, after all, and Minho’s judgement goes to absolute shit when there’s a pretty boy in his lap. “You know Hyunjin’s already dating Jinyoung right, honey? That’s why he sat there.”

“Oh, I, should I move?”

Changbin looks nervous, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. Minho _still can’t tell_ if he’s faking it. Maybe it’s a little of both. Minho doesn’t know, but he’s a little preoccupied with watching the colour flood back into Changbin’s pretty lips, enamoured by the blush dusting his cheeks like rouge. “Not yet,” Minho stops him as he seems about to get off him, steadying Changbin with hands resting in the dip of his waist. He’s muscled beneath the loose band tee he’s wearing, evident already from the way it strains at the arms, and Minho tries not to think too hard about that. “I’m your turn, aren’t I, Changbin?”

“I suppose you are, Minho.” 

Minho starts to wonder how Changbin knows his name, but the train of thought dissolves into nothingness as the very pretty boy in his lap leans forward to close the distance between them. If Minho’s mind is addled by him just being there, it’s nothing compared to the way the whole room spins when Changbin kisses him.

——————————— 

“Isn’t it a little hypocritical of you to assume that someone’s straight just because you’ve never seen them making out with guys?” Seungmin points out after the party as Minho laments his bad luck. “I’ve kissed _women_ at parties, and I’m not even bi like Channie.”

“I don’t think you letting Chaeyoung kiss you that one time so a guy would stop bothering her really counts,” Minho rebuts, ignoring the main point Seungmin had been trying to make. “You’re literally both gay.”

“You looked hot together, though,” Jisung adds, though quietens after Chan lifts his head out from the pillow of Seungmin’s lap to glare at him. _I thought he was asleep,_ he mouths to Minho after Chan lays his head back down, sighing contentedly as Seungmin plays with his hair. Chan can be downright terrifying at times when he gets possessive, but Seungmin seems into it. Minho can’t judge, though he likes cute boys himself. He’s down for push-and-pull in a relationship, but he best enjoys being the main pusher when it comes to control. Chan is nice, and all, but he’s far more suited to Seungmin. 

Changbin had been cute, at the party. Climbing straight into his lap and only _then_ stopping to be nervous about kissing him. It was adorable, really, and his wide eyed look when Minho commented on him being in his lap has been on loop in Minho’s brain ever since. Minho _loves_ cute boys, and it’s annoying that one so cute and _so_ pretty is almost definitely straight. Cause he has to be, right? Someone would’ve told Minho if someone _that_ much of Minho’s type was free and interested in men, surely.

Jisung had been cute when they fooled around, not that there had ever been feelings there. All good things must come to an end, though. Especially when it’ll never go further than it had been, which was great sex and friendship. Jisung is seeing Yugyeom exclusively now, one of Hyunjin’s boyfriend’s roommates. And while that’s all well and good, and Minho couldn’t be happier for his friend, it means he’s lost an easy fuck in Jisung. With Minho’s final project and his library job combined giving little time for parties and hookups, this has translated to a dry spell lasting longer than Minho would really like, especially given he’s more stressed than ever at the moment. 

Minho resolves to push Changbin out of his mind. There’s no use daydreaming of something that’ll never pan out. Especially when that something is everything that sets Minho off all bundled up into one annoyingly adorable frat boy. It’s fine. Minho will just avoid parties for a while, and their paths won’t cross. 

_Dramatic irony is a funny thing._

—————————————————

At his next shift, Minho sees a familiar face in the growing line for the self-checkout machines. 

As much as he wants to be bad at his job _just this once_ and let the line build, he sighs defeatedly and opens up his desk. “Over here,” he says, his slightly raised voice easily getting attention in the relative quiet. It’s not complete silence, given the checkout stations are in the same location as the group-study tables, but it’s still a library. If anyone gets too loud even in the non-silent study floors, they get kicked out. Minho is usually the one to implement this, though the students are still more scared of the seventy-year old head librarian that had hand-picked Minho for her employ.

“Hey, stranger,” Changbin greets Minho. It’s the first time Minho has ever seen him at the library, but he chalks it up to coincidence even as Changbin stares at him unabashedly. He must be doing that annoying straight guy psych-out thing where they try and stare people down as some assertion of dominance. The thought of Changbin managing to really dominate Minho seems laughable— and he _so_ wishes he could take that train of thought further — so he stares right back until Changbin breaks and looks away, long lashes fluttering prettily. Changbin is _so_ pretty. It really isn’t fair.

“Hello, Changbin.”

“Are you a library book?” Changbin asks, and Minho registers what he’s about to say next just before the greasy words fall from his full lips. He shouldn’t make this look pretty, sound pretty, and yet somehow he manages. “Because I’m checking you out,” he says, complete with finger guns. It shouldn’t be cute, nor should it be remotely attractive, yet it is both in spades. 

“Oh, my good God,” Minho sighs. Changbin smiles, and Minho looks at him tiredly. Stupid pretty boys being pretty and unattainable. “Why?”

“Why not?” Changbin counters, a mixture of nonchalant and whiny, and Minho doesn’t really have a response to that. To answer would be to tell Changbin he doesn’t need another straight guy faux-flirting with him, and Minho doesn’t want to deal with the repercussions.

“Here you go,” Minho says, instead. He’d checked out the book for Changbin as they were speaking, a level of efficiency borne of too much practice, and he hands it over. 

“Thank you, Minho,” Changbin beams. Minho smiles back a little, despite his better judgement, and Changbin seems to blush as he sees it. “See you soon,” Changbin says, and then he’s hurrying away, looking far too good as he does so.

Minho wants to hope he _doesn’t_ see him soon, but Changbin is pretty and distracting, and Minho is a fool, so he can’t. 

—————————————————

Changbin does see Minho soon, so it turns out. He sees him in the self-study area, diligently working on an essay with the book he’d checked out yesterday open in front of him. Perhaps he _is_ just being a good student, albeit one in the direct line of sight from Minho’s desk. Maybe he’s been there before countless times, and Minho just hasn’t noticed. It has to be something like that.

Changbin shows up at his desk a couple hours later with a new book and a new terrible pickup line, this one of the ‘ten i see’ variety, and Minho rolls his eyes and does his job. There hadn’t even been a line for the self-checkout, but Changbin spins some spiel about how he prefers the ‘vintage’ way of checking out library books. Minho counters by pointing out that he’s still using a computer, and real vintage would require stamps, and Changbin blushes and hurries away after a stammered attempt at a comeback. They don’t talk about the party. 

He’s cute, perhaps. Minho wouldn’t know, because he doesn’t think about Changbin. 

—————————————————

In reality, Minho thinks about Changbin far too often. Changbin shows up every single day from then on, pretty much, so it’s hard to ignore his existence as Minho wishes he could. The dangerous stage comes when Minho accepts that he can’t ignore him, not with the odd persistence Changbin has in wanting to be his friend. He starts looking forward to his visits, even if he won’t admit it to anyone but himself at first. Changbin’s smile as he rattles off the pickup line of the day (because, yes, there’s a new one every day), blinds Minho past good sense. 

Sometimes, when Changbin is being particularly irritating, and particularly pretty as he does so, Minho wishes he had _some_ form of hope that he wouldn’t be barking up the wrong tree were he to make a move. Minho has tried to get with a straight guy before, and that had gone so life-ruiningly disastrously that he’d resolved there and then to never risk that again. He confides this to Jisung one night when they’re wine-drunk and cuddling on Minho’s couch. Yugyeom is at home visiting family, and Jisung gets even needier when he doesn’t have his boyfriend to take the edge off his generally clingy demeanour. Jisung pulls just far enough away from Minho’s side to hit him, calls him an idiot and then snuggles back in. 

“Why am I an idiot?” Minho asks, the wine making his voice decidedly petulant. 

“Oh, we’d be here all night if I listed all the reasons, but-”

“Hey!”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jisung feigns contriteness, just for a second. “That isn’t anywhere near long enough.”

“Stop being mean or I take away the cuddles,” Minho replies threateningly, though they both know he would never follow through. Minho is just as clingy as Jisung in his own way.

“Sure, Minho.” Jisung always says that with the exact same intonation as the ‘Sure, Jan’ meme, and it’s about as irritating as one would imagine, yet so quintessentially him. “But, as for your question — you’re stupid in this _particular_ instance because you have a boy flirting with you daily and you still think he’s straight.”

“Bad pickup lines are not serious flirting, Sungie.”

“What do you want, a trail of rose petals and candles? Him reciting poetry to you from your balcony? Bad pickup lines are the beginning of many a student fling. You’re in college, get with the times.”

Minho knows that Jisung isn’t wrong, but- “Not after Dylan.”

“Anyone named Dylan was bound to be straight,” Jisung reasons. “That should have been the first sign. Changbin’s like. A _way_ more sexually ambiguous name.”

Laughing lightly, Minho silently thanks the universe for throwing a friend like Jisung his way. His sense of humour is more than enough to dispel the slight anxiety that mentioning Dylan brings. “True,” Minho admits. He pulls Jisung just a little closer, a silent thank you. “Still, though. Not risking misreading this.”

“What’s there to misread about a guy making out with you at a party and showing up at your job pretty much every day since to flirt with you?”

“I work at the library,” Minho counters. “The _campus_ library. It’s not that strange to see a student there. Changbin’s a student.”

“Had you ever seen him there before that party?”

Minho doesn’t have an argument for that. “Shush.”

“And does everyone checking books out bombard you with pickup lines?”

_“Shush.”_

“Anyway,” Jisung says, smug smile tugging at his lips as he speaks. “Changbin is about as straight as I am, I’d bet anything on it.”

Minho doesn’t take him up on that offer, and his refusal seems to tell Jisung all he needs to know.

—————————————————

_“Hey, stranger!”_

Changbin. Again.

Wearily, Minho looks up, heart absolutely not skipping a beat at the smile he’s immediately faced with. Not at all. He’s working the night shift, because the campus library is open twenty-four hours in the last couple of weeks before final exams. “Hello, Changbin. You can probably axe that greeting by now, you know.”

“So no calling you stranger?”

“No, it doesn’t seem nec-”

“Oh, then can I call you mine instead?”

Finger guns. _Again._

“Changbin, I really do hate you sometimes,” Minho sighs longsufferingly. 

“I’m the highlight of your day and you know it,” Changbin refutes, pouting at him. Changbin shouldn’t be allowed to pout, Minho decides. He’s already cute enough in general without deliberately adding to that. “Will you love me now, though?” Changbin asks, putting a coffee cup on the desk in front of him. 

“I’ve changed my mind.” Minho grabs the cup like he’s scared it’ll run away. He still has three hours left of his shift and he feels fit to pass out. “You’re the love of my life if you bring me coffee.”

“Oh, that’s all it takes?” Changbin fakes awe, then pulls out his phone. Minho sees him open up his notes app. “What’s your favourite order? I’ll buy you more. You’re gonna be _so_ in love with me soon.”

Honestly, that’s what Minho’s worried about.

Changbin doesn’t leave until Minho finally gives in and tells him his order. It’s not like he’ll _actually_ keep buying Minho coffee, of course. And he’s not cute at all as he waves goodbye from the doorway, before finally leaving. Had it been necessary to take the joke so far as to actually learn Minho’s order? Had it _really?_ It’s not like he actually needs it.

Minho lets his head fall to the desk once Changbin is out of sight, though far from out of mind. 

—————————————————

Changbin shows up the next day with Minho’s favourite coffee.

Maybe Minho calls him the love of his life again, _just following on from the joke,_ and maybe he regrets it because the way Changbin smiles at him hurts something in his chest. 

—————————————————

It’s telling that Minho’s first response to hearing about the flood is to be disappointed that he won’t get to see Changbin today. It’s a minor issue, burst pipes that’ll only take a few days to fix if the college pulls out all the stops, but _still._ Minho pouts as he thinks about it, feet propped in Jisung’s lap and forcing himself to read a book as distraction. He’s just texted Seungmin to complain, so it’s a sardonic response he’s expecting when his phone buzzes. Instead, it’s an unknown number.

_##?: minho?_

A little confused, Minho replies.

_Minho: yes?..._

_##?: oh, good. chan wasn’t lying. caught him in the studio and kinda bugged him for your number…._

_##?: wait shit rewind_

_##?: hi this is changbin i forgot to say_

“Why do you look more blissed out than when you’re getting your dick sucked right now?” Jisung asks idly, and Minho ignores him.

_Minho: oh, changbin!! hiya ^__^_

As he sends it, he immediately overthinks the exclamation marks and emoticon. Too late now, though— it’s just his texting style, but maybe Changbin will misinterpret it. He might think that Minho’s flirting with him. Minho kind of is, but he tries not to give in to the urge to very often.

_Minho: you okay?_

**_##? has been saved as: Changbin_ **

_Changbin: yeah, just seeing if you miss me </3 _

_Changbin: no changbin fix today rip_

_Changbin: *coffee fix, haha autocorrect_

_Minho: sure_

_Minho: but yes, will have to soldier on without my changbin fix_

_Minho: *coffee_

_Minho: ^__^_

“Don’t flirt with the straight boy, don’t flirt with the straight boy,” Minho repeats out loud like a mantra, almost forgetting that Jisung’s there to judge him until he looks up and sees him rolling his eyes.

“You should absolutely flirt with the _not_ straight boy, in my opinion.”

“You shush.”

“Alas, I am not single, so you can't make me any more.” Jisung sticks out his tongue.

Jisung had been much easier to shut up when Minho could use his dick to do so. Minho doesn’t really want that anymore, though. He hasn’t wanted anyone in a while except- Nobody. No one in particular.

_Changbin: well, you don’t HAVE to, per se…_

_Minho: hm?_

_Changbin: i’m at the campus cafe— the other one that isn’t in the library_

Minho almost forgets that there’s two, sometimes, given he spends so much of his life in the library. 

_Minho: … and?_

_Changbin: you wound me_

_Changbin: stop pretending not to get what i’m saying_

_Changbin: hmph_

“Cute…” Minho accidentally speaks out loud, and Jisung laughs at him. 

_Minho: what /are/ you saying_

_Changbin: come see me_

Minho stares at his screen for a minute or so, trying to explain Changbin’s texting away as platonic. Apparently he takes a moment too long, as Changbin texts him again. 

_Changbin: .. if you want to like it’s no big deal i was just joking mostly_

_Changbin: unless you want to_

_Changbin: then i’m serious_

Minho’s bolder when Changbin can’t see him blush.

_Minho: needy_

_Changbin: and what about it_

“Don’t flirt with the straight boy, don’t flirt with the straight boy, don’t flirt with the straight boy.”

“Flirt with him, I dare you.”

Minho hits Jisung. “Fuck off.”

_Minho: be there in fifteen_

_Minho: only cause i want to escape my best friend_

_Changbin: not for the joy of my company? not even for my free coffee?_

_Minho: you’re alright, i guess_

—————————————————

“Minho!” Changbin enthuses, jumping up as he sees him enter the cafe. He pulls Minho into a hug like it’s instinctual, and Minho wonders if he’d be greeted in such a way every time if there weren’t a desk between them. He lets himself imagine it for a moment, enjoying Changbin’s body up against him, and then pushes the thought down. He does that a lot around Changbin. Perhaps Changbin feels Minho tense up, because he lets him go. “Sorry, was that weird, or?...”

“Not at all,” Minho reassures, trying to play off his swirling turmoil of emotions as calm. He thinks he manages pretty well. Changbin doesn’t look overly suspicious or grossed out, at least. 

Changbin gestures to a mug on the table as they sit down. “I got your usual,” he says, sounding shy, “Figured it was a safe choice.” Their thighs brush under the too-small table, and Minho indulges himself in not pulling away too fast. Changbin doesn’t move either, and Minho doesn’t really have anywhere to move, so they stay like that. Pressed together. Minho doesn’t let his mind stray further down _that_ train of thought. 

“It’s great, thank you, Binnie.” Changbin freezes, and Minho feels his thighs tensing where they touch. “Am I alright to call you that?” Minho checks. It had just slipped out, somehow, but admitting it had been accidental seems all the more damning. “I thought it was cute, but-”

“No, I like it!” Changbin blurts out hurriedly, blushing for some reason. Minho doesn’t get him. “I like cute.”

Not in the way that _Minho_ likes cute, unfortunately. _Changbin is cute like this._ “Good,” Minho says, and feels Changbin tense again for some reason. “Binnie it is, then.”

Jisung would laugh if he could hear Minho now. Minho is most _definitely_ flirting, but he doubts Changbin will catch on. He hopes not, at least. It’ll fade eventually, the way Changbin makes Minho’s stomach do flips, and Minho can deal with having him as a friend. Changbin is already a good friend, treating Minho to coffee so often, though Minho doesn’t really get why he spends so much time trying to build their friendship. He appreciates it, nonetheless.

“Can’t believe I’ve been upgraded from exhausted sighs to cute nicknames,” Changbin giggles (Changbin fucking _giggles)_ as he sips at his drink. Minho takes a long sip of his own, lest he be too obvious about how much he likes the sound. “You must really like me, huh?”

“It’s the coffee,” Minho replies, forcing his tone to sound light to the point it comes out strained anyway. Changbin blinks at him slowly, like he’s considering saying something. He seems to decide against it.

“Told you you’d fall in love with me,” Changbin jokes, and Minho rolls his eyes. His heart tries to escape his chest, but Minho pushes it _down, down, down_ until the feeling numbs. Just a little.

“You’re the one spoiling me like this,” Minho retorts, flipping the teasing right back at him. “You sure _you’re_ not the one falling?”

Changbin spills a little of his coffee with shaky hands, and laughs nervously as he cleans it off the table with his napkin. “You’re funny.” It’s the same sort of strained tone that Minho has just heard from his own lips. 

Minho tilts his head. Danger thrums beneath his skin. “Am I?”

There’s a pause, just long enough to feel uncomfortable in a charged, electric sort of way. Changbin’s thigh burns against his beneath the table, shaking as his foot jogs against the ground. Changbin laughs once more, higher in pitch and breathy. Minho wants to chase the sweet sound, make him nervous and panting in a whole other setting. Perhaps it shows a little in his eyes, for Changbin’s widen before he looks away. Coughing, Changbin takes another sip of his drink. Under the table, his leg stills as if he’s forcing himself to stop shaking. “So, uh, nice weather we’ve been having lately.”

—————————————————

“Okay, so, I’ve been thinking-” Minho starts, or at least tries to.

“That’s never good,” Seungmin cuts in, and Minho halfheartedly tries to push his friend off the couch.

“Stop being annoying.”

“You’re fighting a losing battle there, Minho,” Jisung pipes up from the other side of him. Minho is sandwiched between his two best friends, and sadly for his dick it isn’t in a hot way. He’s happy for them and their boyfriends, but if he doesn’t get a hand on his dick that isn’t his own soon he’s going to scream.

“True,” Minho agrees, ducking the retaliatory hit. “Anyway. Do you guys think Changbin is actually straight, cause I’m starting to have… some doubts, at least.”

“Really?” Seungmin deadpans. “Why would that be, Mr. Oblivious?”

Minho ignores him, mostly. “I thought it was just jokey when he started using the bad pickup lines on me after the party, but it’s been _months_ and he’s still doing it. And he was acting really weird when we went for coffee the other day.”

“You went for coffee with your crush-boy and didn’t tell me?!” Seungmin exclaims. Minho had entirely forgotten to, too distracted ever since he’d made Changbin’s eyes widen like that. “The absolute betrayal.”

Jisung gives more solid advice than Seungmin’s outright judgement. “Try reciprocating it. Even just a little, see how he reacts. I don’t think it’ll be anything like Dylan, Min— even if he is straight, he won’t be _that_ kind of straight. He was completely comfortable making out with you, remember?”

How could he forget? Changbin’s weight in his lap, hands around his neck as he moved in to kiss him. Changbin so hopelessly pretty, that perfect balance of confidence and delicacy, soft and strong. He’s all too easy to daydream about. Minho sighs. “Yeah. Maybe. I might. I make no promises.”

“Finally,” Seungmin mutters. “Dumbass.”

Jisung changes the subject to save Seungmin from dying at Minho’s hands, or at least Minho foolishly thinks he does at the time. “Oh, I meant to mention,” he says casually, “There’s a free car wash going on tomorrow— one of the frats fucked up and they’re paying it back with community service. You should go with Bertha, she’s filthy.” 

“Sure,” Minho replies, all too naive and unnoticing of the way Jisung smiles evilly at Seungmin behind his back. “She’s due a wash, yeah.”

—————————————————

Changbin isn’t shirtless, but the alternative is somehow worse.

Minho should know by now that Jisung isn’t to be trusted, given he’s known him for nearly a decade and therefore knows all too well how he is as a person. Stupidly, he’d still taken his seemingly innocent advice regarding the ‘free car wash’. It made sense that it was _this_ frat, although Minho hadn’t connected the dots until he’d already parked. Frats are always fucking up, so usually there’s a reasonable degree of leeway, but being caught red-handed dressing the founder’s statue in drag was too much to be ignored. He should have _known_ that it was weird that Jisung kept skirting around naming the specific frat, but Minho’s just turned in his final project and is still a little low on the whole brain cell front after pouring his everything into that for months. 

_“There’s a free car wash, you should go with Bertha, she’s filthy.”_

Bertha is Minho’s car, a bright yellow VW Bug that Minho’s father had passed down to him for college on the condition that he didn’t stop using the name. Minho had, of course, simply neglected to mention it to anyone. Jisung, longtime friend that he is and therefore knowing said name (though the term friend feels too strong at times like these), had let everyone in a five-mile radius know, so Minho kinda just has to go with it. Seungmin had been no help either, laughing as soon as he found out and helping Jisung spread the word. 

“I like your sweater, Min,” Changbin calls through the window, louder than life to be heard through the glass. “You look cute!”

It’s like he’s flirting, though obviously he isn’t _really._ He just likes to tease him. The most annoying thing about straight boys flirting with him jokingly is when they’re pretty, to boot. And Changbin is _so_ pretty that it’s unfair that he’s wasted on women. 

Most of the other car-washing frat boys have opted to forgo their shirts, but Changbin is one of few exceptions. It would have been easier, really, if he had stripped off the plain white t-shirt he’s wearing, rather than this. Instead, it’s soaking wet and clinging to him like a second skin, simultaneously hinting at modesty and showing absolutely everything before Minho’s eyes. He’d like to say he isn’t looking, but Minho is weak, gay and staring. Changbin’s body is unfairly built, stomach that cute stage between squishy and toned and from the way the fabric catches on his chest, he appears to _have his nipples pierced._ Minho, as much as he tries to escape making eye contact, can’t help it when Changbin moves to clean the driver’s side of the car. He has that look on his face, the one he always has when he’s fake-flirting with Minho at work, and his smile widens as he manages to catch Minho’s eye. 

“Hey, stranger!” he says, loud enough that Minho can hear him clearly through the closed windows. “Missed me?”

_Hey, stranger,_ implies that Changbin hadn’t been bothering Minho at the library literally yesterday, but he smiles somewhat exasperatedly at the younger man nonetheless. “Sure,” Minho replies, equally loud so that Changbin can hear him too. He remembers what he’d said to Jisung about reciprocating, and blurts out a _you look pretty_ that Changbin thankfully doesn’t hear. “You look good, Changbin,” Minho speaks up, feeling that that option’s safer, and Changbin blushes enough that Minho can see it clearly even from their slight distance. “You _do!”_

Changbin blows him a kiss, still blushing. Minho rolls his eyes, though this does little to dissuade Changbin, who drapes himself over Minho’s windshield to ‘clean it’. It’s less cleaning and more giving Minho a closeup view of what are _definitely_ nipple piercings. They’re hard to miss when pressed against something see-through inches away from Minho’s face. Tearing his eyes away, Minho sees that Changbin is already watching him, that he _definitely_ caught Minho staring. It’s hard to tell which one of them is more flustered. 

Minho is saved, then, by one of Changbin’s fellow frat boys. Changbin squawks as an entire bucket of water is emptied over him (thankfully for both Changbin and Bertha, it seems clean at least), and the other boy promptly runs away. Dramatically sliding off Minho’s windshield like he’s been slain in battle, Changbin lays on the floor and pouts until Minho opens his door to check on him. “...Are you okay?” Minho reluctantly asks, barely refraining from rolling his eyes as Changbin whines.

“Felix finally got me back for the saran wrap,” he bemoans. “I knew I shouldn’t have believed he actually wanted to give me a ride to this; he was acting so shifty earlier. How am I supposed to get back now?”

“What did you do with saran wrap?...” Minho asks warily, wondering what could have warranted Felix soaking Changbin (not that he wasn’t already wet) and then abandoning him in the parking lot. Minho assumes from Changbin’s words that the car speeding away must be Felix.

“What _didn’t_ I do with saran wrap?…” Changbin replies ominously, elaborating no further. 

Minho decides not to ask. 

Changbin is still pouting, even after Minho has helped him up from the puddle he had been laying in. It doesn’t bode well for Minho, who can tell that the younger man wants something. “Minhooo…” Changbin says, batting his eyes and drawing out his name. 

Minho sighs. “Yes, Changbin?”

“Don’t suppose you know anyone who could take a poor soaking student like me back home?”

Forcing his mind not to go _there,_ as much as the cadence of Changbin’s voice invites him to, Minho sighs once again, still more heavily. “Do you want a ride, Changbin?”

Changbin looks him up and down, not a hint of humour in the way he openly stares, and a falter of doubt stirs in Minho’s hesitation. _“Absolutely.”_

Not that, of course, he means it like _that._

So, Minho ends up leading a sodden Changbin around to the passenger side seat of his car, opening the door for him. He’s not being overly gentlemanly, the door just sticks a little and has to be opened a certain way. Though he explains this to Changbin, the frat boy fans himself like a seventeenth century maiden as Minho leans over the seat into the back to grab his towel from swimming. Straightening up after spreading the towel as some small protection to his seat, he notices Changbin blatantly staring at his ass. “Enjoying the view?” Minho asks, expecting sputtering and denial. There’s only a certain level to which straight guys are comfortable taking their little jokes, in Minho’s experience.

Instead, Changbin smiles easily, nodding as if he’d been expecting the question. “Yes, I was,” he replies, though blushing nonetheless, and Minho is the one left trying not to splutter. 

For a while, he’d genuinely convinced himself that this was all some big joke for Changbin, but with every second that passes the seed of doubt in his stomach blooms still further. Maybe Jisung had been right. Maybe. It’s not something Minho plans on dealing with right now, though. He’ll drop Changbin off, go home and hit Jisung for sending him to this car wash in the first place, then probably complain to Seungmin. Seungmin will call him an idiot, of course, but at least that’s something that’ll add a sense of consistency to what has otherwise been a chaos-driven afternoon. 

Once they’re both buckled in, Minho waits for Changbin to direct him as to where he wants dropping off. Instead, Changbin sighs dramatically, looking out of the window. “You know,” he bemoans, “it was the entire frat who had to do this, even though it wasn’t even all of us who gave the statue a makeover.”

Minho feels little sympathy. After he’d texted Jisung angrily about setting him up like this, Jisung had linked him to the video footage of just why Changbin’s frat were out here washing cars. “Changbin, you were _in_ the livestream that got all of you caught.” Jisung had sent the YouTube reupload link to Minho with the words _‘anyway look at ur bf lol’,_ and he’d watched it while trying to ignore Changbin at first. “You were the one who put that pink wig on Sir Bartholemew. _And_ the clip on earrings.”

“Slander!” Changbin protests, breaking character from his dreary staring off into the distance. He feigns great indignance, furrowing his brow in a cute scowl. His nose scrunches up, and something in Minho’s chest lays down and admits defeat. “I won’t say a word without my lawyer present.”

Despite himself, Minho laughs. Changbin is adorable, much to Minho’s peril. “Uh huh. Where to, then?”

Despite Minho’s question, Changbin continues to complain, looking at Minho this time as he drops hints about as subtle as a grenade in a china shop. “All the showers will be being used by now,” he laments, “and even if they _aren’t,_ I bet all the hot water is gone…” Here, Changbin pauses, batting his eyes for dramatic effect. It looks like he’s playing a war widow in some period play. “I’m going to get hypothermia, I’m sure of it.”

Minho _shouldn’t._

… Minho does. 

“We can’t have that,” he gives in, hating how Changbin lights up, wiggling in his seat a little as he realises he’s getting his way. It’s cuter than it should be. “Would you like to use my shower, Binnie?”

“If you wouldn’t _mind…”_ Changbin trails off, and while Changbin gets nervous around Minho fairly often this is definitely overplayed shyness. Mostly, at least. Some of it still seems real. Playing it up even more, Changbin sniffles. “It’s okay, you can leave me to my demise if you really want to.”

Rolling his eyes, Minho starts the car. Before pulling out of his spot, wipers on to clear the soapy mess Changbin has left on Minho’s windshield, Minho notices that Changbin is actually shivering, and subtly enough that he can tell it’s not for show. “Here,” he says, taking off his jacket and handing it over. “You seem cold.”

“That’ll be the hypothermia setting in,” Changbin quips, smile sunny nonetheless now that he’s got his way.

“Do you want my sweater, too?”

“No, you’re too cute in it.” While already ignoring _that,_ Minho has to quickly avert his gaze as the pretty boy in his passenger seat immediately peels off his sodden shirt. In a small, self-indulgent flicker of his eyes, Minho’s suspicions are confirmed: Changbin _does_ have his fucking nipples pierced. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Minho replies. He hates how fond he sounds as he does so, but Changbin is ineffably endearing. 

“I look good in your clothes,” Changbin remarks offhandedly, pushing his wet hair up from where it had been plastered against his forehead. Minho thinks that Changbin looks good in anything, though he doesn’t say that. He’s right, though; Changbin in his jacket is a sight to behold, especially given he’s wearing nothing beneath. “I should wear them more often,” Changbin adds, and even though he’s joking — he _has_ to be joking, right — the thought affects Minho more than it really should. 

“You’re funny,” Minho retorts. 

“Who’s joking?” Changbin’s voice cracks like he’s nervous to say it, and he coughs it off awkwardly. When Minho looks back over, Changbin is still shaking. From the cold, of course.

Minho turns on the radio. His hands are shaking too, and the soft sound of amusement from beside him shows that Changbin has definitely noticed that fact. Thankfully, though Minho doubts it’ll last, Changbin stays quiet for the rest of the drive, content to listen to the random channel’s bursts of music interspersed with long periods of ad breaks.

They reach Minho’s apartment — well, the parking area nearby, as there’s none out front — and Minho gets an odd look from Mrs Simmonns next door as he ushers a bedraggled Changbin up the stairs and into his apartment. “Do you need to borrow a full set of clothes, I assume?” Minho asks. It’s mostly because he’s being considerate, and only partly because he really likes the idea of Changbin wearing them. 

“Yes please, Min,” Changbin replies, sunny smile in place and sending Minho’s stomach flipping. “Can I go shower while you find them? I’m really cold…” He pouts, and Minho wishes he was just a little less pretty, just a _little_ so that Minho could think easier around him. His wish is far from granted, as Changbin pushes his hair back again and Minho’s knees feel like giving way. 

“Sure thing,” Minho feigns calm, walking Changbin over to the bathroom and handing him a clean towel. He starts walking away near-immediately, but he’s stopped by that same pretty voice again. 

“Wait!” Changbin calls out. Minho reluctantly turns on his heels, regretting it immediately as he’s faced with the sight of Changbin stripping Minho’s clothing from his too-pretty body. “Your jacket,” he smiles, and Minho is not looking at his nipple piercings at all right now. “Don’t wanna get it any wetter, right?”

Minho takes back the folded jacket. It’s slightly damp, though it could be worse. “Thank you,” he says, voice coming out embarrassingly choked. 

“See you in a few,” Changbin waves, shutting the bathroom door in Minho’s face and leaving him alone with his increasingly spiralling thoughts. 

_—————————————————_

After standing in his kitchen for a while, slowly drinking a glass of cold water to try and calm himself down, Minho goes to his room. He gets so caught up rummaging through his drawers for clothes that he doesn’t notice Changbin’s return until a cough behind him makes him jump. Changbin is there, leant against the wall next to Minho’s door frame. It’s been a _while,_ far longer than a usual shower should take. “Hey, stranger,” Changbin says, as he always says. He never did stop that, even when Minho had brought it up.

“Hello, Changbin,” Minho replies, as he often does. “Shower okay?”

“God, yes,” Changbin says in a cadence somewhat reminiscent of a moan. It does nothing to Minho, or so he desperately tries to convince himself. “So much more hot water than at the house with the others. Plus, it smells like you— what’s not to like?”

“Binnie, I-” Minho attempts to say, but Changbin keeps on talking even as Minho tries. A drop of water catches at his collarbone, though he’s mostly dried off already. His hair is tousled and fluffed up from the towel he must have used on it. He’s adorable and ruinous all rolled into one pretty boy with pretty hipbones peeking out from the towel around his waist, pretty nipple piercings glinting in the light of Minho’s bedroom. Pretty everything, and all too much of it. 

“I smell like you too, now,” Changbin remarks, tilting his head and making his neck arch like an invitation. “Had to use your shower stuff, so.”

Minho steps closer, holding out the pile of clothes. Changbin makes no move to reach out and take them from him, so Minho moves even closer. Given the pretty man had practically invited him to, Minho can’t really help but inhale a little, taking in a thick mixture of scents from the newly showered Changbin. Within that mixture is something that Minho _must_ be imagining— there’s only one bottle in Minho’s shower that smells like cherry. “Changbin…” Minho trails off, unable to ask.

“Do I smell nice, Min?” Changbin replies cutely, tilting his head with a smile far too knowing. He looks a little nervous, but determined, as he speaks next. “Figures you’d use that flavour...” he hums, and Minho’s brain shuts down and reboots in the space of a split second. In his heart, Minho connected the dots the second he smelt it on him, but hearing it confirmed aloud is another level of headfuck. “You used cherry lip balm at the party. I remember.”

_“Changbin.”_ Minho leaves the clothes on top of his dresser and steps closer still, close enough that he’s almost blocking Changbin in, but not quite— he can still move away if he wants to. He doesn’t. If anything, Changbin leans closer to Minho in turn.

Rather than escape, Changbin looks up at him. Their height difference isn’t massive, but enough that he does need to. It’s cute. “Yes, Min?” He’s so, _so_ pretty. It feels a little over the top, the confidence in his tone, and Minho can tell he’s overcompensating. It only makes Minho want him all the more, as he bats his eyes like a movie star and so clearly tries not to tremble. He’s nervous, nervous in the way of someone who has wanted something for a while and is steeling themselves to finally take action. _Is that what’s going on here? Changbin really wanting him?_ “Do you mind? I just couldn’t help myself…”

“Are you being serious right now?” Minho asks, the million-dollar-question that he’s been aching to spring upon the pretty man for months. Granted, it’s usually about flirting rather than Changbin _fingering himself in Minho’s shower,_ but it works for either scenario. Deliberately, Changbin nods. Leans a little closer, if Minho’s eyes aren’t deceiving him. Minho feels rather stupid all of a sudden, though he’d started to hesitantly suspect before now. “...You aren’t straight, are you?”

Changbin laughs softly, pouting up at Minho with those pretty lips that have been haunting Minho ever since he kissed them. “Minho…” he whines. “I’m offended. Could anyone straight be this cute?” The pout deepens, and he flutters his long eyelashes to add to the vision. “Could anyone straight chase after you for _months_ after kissing you?”

“That’s not a no.” Minho wants absolute clarity.

_“No.”_ Changbin speaks clearly, no shadow of a doubt in his tone, eye contact unbroken. “I’m not straight in the slightest.”

“So, when you’ve been flirting with me, you’ve meant it?” Minho checks, hands moving to cage Changbin in. He doesn’t miss it, the way Changbin’s eyes widen, the way his breath catches prettily in his throat. Minho always delights in eliciting that sound, and with Changbin it’s no exception. Above and beyond, even — Minho doesn’t usually have to wait for this long without relieving the built-up tension. 

“Glad you’re getting it now, darling,” Changbin rolls his eyes. He’s acting casual, trying to make up for Minho trapping him against the wall with heavy sarcasm. It’s cute. Minho allows it for now. “When did I _ever_ say I was straight, huh?”

“Never said you weren’t.”

“Well, I’m _not,”_ Changbin bites back. It sounds like a challenge, and one Minho will be happy to rise to if this pans out. “Are you gonna keep staring at me now you know that, or are you gonna finally do something about it? I have been waiting for _so_ fucking long, Minho.”

Despite how he’s trying to rile Minho up, Changbin is so cute indignant like this, glaring at Minho for denying him when all Minho had been waiting for was for Changbin to just _ask._ And now he has. And so Minho stops denying him, _denying them both,_ and tilts Changbin’s chin up to kiss him. 

It’s soft at first, softer at least than the sweet desperation that had sparked between them at the party, but chasteness rarely lingers when Minho is so clouded with want. Changbin whines into the kiss as Minho deepens it, giving back as much as he’s given, and it only spurs Minho on to kiss him harder, pushing Changbin against the wall even more. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” Minho breathes out in soft pants against Changbin’s lips, still not quite believing that it’s happening. He’d deluded himself into thinking Changbin was joking for so long that he’d never quite let himself _really_ consider the alternative.

The realisation that Changbin is nearly naked while he’s kissing him crashes into Minho like a tidal wave, suddenly and all-consuming. Changbin’s skin is still flushed from the shower, and now from this, too. He’s only wearing a towel, a thin one at that, and he’s hard against Minho’s thigh. It’s a whole lot to process, going suddenly from _Changbin-is-straight_ to _holy-shit-I’m-probably-about-to-fuck-Changbin,_ and Minho’s head spins a little even as he leans to bite at Changbin’s pretty collarbones. They’re slightly damp from the shower, and Changbin smells like Minho’s favourite body wash. There’s a note of something inherently possessive in that, something that rears up proud at the thought of Changbin smelling like him. More ruinous still is that sweeter scent, the tang of cherry floating in the air that tells Minho all too much about where this is going. Or, at least, where Changbin seems to want it to. Where Minho definitely wants it to, as well. If the months of pickup lines have been with any degree of seriousness in their intent, it would make sense for Changbin to be desperate enough to pull something like this. 

Trailing down from his collarbones in a path of open-mouthed kisses, Minho reaches Changbin’s chest, nipples hard from exposure and want both. Ducking his head, Minho takes one nipple into his mouth, reveling in the desperately wanton sound Changbin lets out as he rolls the piercing between his teeth. _“Fuck,_ hyung, God, I-” he rambles, already reduced to near-incoherency. 

_Fuck, that’s cute._

The shift into Korean is an easy one, so much so that Changbin doesn’t seem to really register it at first. Minho is used to a hybrid of both languages with his family and close friends. While Chan and Felix tend to switch it up mid sentence, Seungmin speaks mainly English when he’s not with Chan, and Minho’s friends back in Korea don’t speak English at all. He’s well in practice in all regards, therefore. Though both Korean, they’ve interacted mainly in English asides from those little mind blanks that happen sometimes when Changbin forgets a word. Minho won’t deny it’s adorable that it’s _this_ that makes him switch over.

“Oh you want me, do you, Binnie?” Minho hums against Changbin’s skin as he moves to pull and tease at the other piercing. Changbin whines when he nips at the sensitive bud, laving his tongue over it in the aftermath of the brief start of pain. “You want _hyung,_ huh?”

Changbin’s eyes widen a little, registering the switch with Minho’s emphasis. He doesn’t try to deny wanting it, though. Changbin is such a _baby,_ so it seems a natural progression that he’d get off on using honorifics for Minho. “So fucking much,” Changbin confirms, like Minho doesn’t know, like he can’t see him tenting the towel. “For _so_ long, hyung.”

“How long, hm?”

“About a year,” Changbin admits. Minho finds himself taken aback. A _year?_

“But the party was much less than a year ago, ‘Bin…” 

“I know,” Changbin says, and avoids Minho’s eyes when he continues, blush dusting his cheeks pretty pink. “The others weren’t the only ones to throw their play. I wanted it to land on you.”

_Well, this changes things._ Minho hadn’t known Changbin before the party, really. It seems that hadn’t been mutual. “How?” Minho asks, fingers toying with the hem of Changbin’s towel. His hands aren’t pushed away, and instead Changbin’s hand comes to rest over his, gently urging him to continue. The gesture is coupled with a soft little whimper when it bears no immediate consequence. Minho wants to know, first. “How did you even know me before then?”

“I’m friends with Hyunjin,” Changbin elaborates.

“Hwang?” Minho only knows one Hyunjin.

“Yes, we got close when we both came over here— he invited me to the amateur showcase… thing,” Changbin gesticulates, clearly blanking on the exact title: _‘Amateur Dance Variety Student Showcase’_ is a bit of a mouthful, to be fair. “And I saw you there.”

_The Showcase._ Changbin had been there for Dawn. “You liked me on stage did you, baby?” Minho asks, still toying with the towel, almost enough for it to fall. He doesn’t miss the way Changbin tenses up when Minho calls him ‘baby’ — it’s a result one might not expect, given Changbin is a beefed up frat boy, but one that Minho isn’t altogether surprised by. Changbin gives to him so easily, arches his neck and pouts; it makes sense that he’d like such a name. “Did you think I was pretty? Did you want to have me, baby?”

“I always think you’re pretty, hyung,” Changbin replies, hurried and honest and so, _so_ precious that Minho feels part of him melt into a puddle. “And yes, all the time, always want you.”

“Do you, now?” Minho slips more and more into confidence as his hold over Changbin becomes increasingly obvious. He kisses him again, short but heated, and Changbin’s hands snake under his oversized sweater, touching bare skin to pull Minho closer. “You know, I think you’re pretty too, Binnie.”

Changbin’s mouth falls open a little, gasping out a little _oh,_ and Minho is beyond gone. “Hyung, _please,”_ he whines, perfectly irresistible, and Minho reckons he would do just about anything for Changbin if he asked him like this. “However you want it, just please touch me already,” he pouts up at Minho. “I’m literally dying here, you know.” And then, like an afterthought, he tacks on one more _please, hyung._

Minho scoffs, but smiles. Thinking. Now, Minho knows what he wants from him. He knows _exactly_ what he wants to do to Changbin, but that path ultimately leads to a question. Minho hasn’t had any action in ages, and he stays up to date on checking, but- “Are you clean, Binnie?”

“Do you mean is my _ass_ clean or have I been tested since I last got laid?” Changbin asks in response, though before Minho can clarify he keeps talking. “Cause yes and yes to both.” He winks lasciviously, deliberately _incredibly_ unsexy and yet still attractive. Only because it’s him. Minho is further gone than he wants to admit right now. 

Still, he rolls his eyes. “You’re annoying,” Minho sighs, though he tugs at the towel enough to free it, damp fabric falling down and away to reveal Changbin in full. Bare before Minho, who’s still wearing the smart-casual outfit from his shift at the library, and unfairly pretty to boot. “But I’ve known that since the beginning, and if your pickup lines don’t stop me wanting to fuck you then nothing will.”

“Oh, you wanna fuck me, hyung?” Changbin goads, even as he hisses at Minho’s hand finally wrapping around his cock. He’s gorgeous even here, just the right length and _thick,_ reddened at the tip like an extra blush. Minho wants to sit on Changbin’s pretty dick and ride him until Changbin cries, if he’s honest, but for now Minho has another agenda entirely. There’s always time for _that_ later, because albeit presumptuous he’s pretty sure there’ll be a next time, and a next time after that, too. “Could’ve fooled me,” Changbin adds, “With the amount you’re making me wait.”

“Don’t tempt me to make you wait even longer, Binnie,” Minho warns. It’s an empty threat; Minho could no more deny Changbin right now than he could pluck the moon from the sky and crush it beneath his heel. Still, it works, and it’s worth it to see Changbin’s mouth hurriedly close on whatever jibe he was next about to throw Minho’s way. “Good boy.”

At that, Changbin’s cock jumps in Minho’s hold, leaking precum enough to dribble down onto his fingers. “Hyung...” he whines, visibly embarrassed at his obvious reaction to praise. 

“What?” Minho teases, knowing that he has him completely in his thrall and basking in the power trip. “Do you not _want_ to be my good boy, Binnie?”

Changbin pauses, visibly swallowing down his pride as he flushes all over. He seems to both love and hate having to actually say it, though one wins over the other in spades. Minho can tell exactly how much Changbin enjoys the slight humiliation borne of owning up to what he wants. His cock throbs in Minho’s hand as he opens his mouth, breath catching in his throat before he admits it. “...Yes. I do, hyung.”

There’s something even sweeter about Changbin like this. 

“That’s what I thought,” Minho replies, and if he sounds incredibly smug Changbin doesn’t dare call him out on it. “I want you over the desk,” he decides. Changbin blinks up at him for a moment, seeming startled at Minho’s bluntness. “Come _on,_ Binnie,” he urges, desperation bleeding into his own tone. He wants this as much as Changbin does and yet, though it must be obvious, Changbin still does as he’s told. Minho won’t lie and say this is the first time he’s had a pretty boy bent over his desk this way, but he’d be just as much of a liar if he said that Changbin wasn’t the prettiest yet. Having watched Changbin walk over there (having watched Changbin’s _ass_ as he walked over there, really), Minho joins him.

Changbin really is gorgeous like this. He’s moved the chair where it’d been tucked in neatly, and now drapes himself in its place. Minho had said he wanted Changbin over his desk, and over his desk Changbin indeed is. Though the patch of hair above his cock is trimmed rather than absent in its entirety, Minho finds that Changbin’s ass is shaven completely smooth. Even waxed, perhaps. It begs the question as to just how much Changbin had planned for such an outcome, but in the moment Minho certainly isn’t complaining. Facing forward, Changbin lets out a little squeaking sound when Minho grabs at his ass, and Minho laughs lightly. “What did you expect me to do with you bent over like that, hm?”

“You walk very quietly, okay…” Changbin whines his defense. 

“You’re so damn cute, you know that?” Minho says, marvelling at how Changbin still manages to evoke such feelings of endearment bent over, ass up.

“I know.”

Though Changbin can’t see, Minho rolls his eyes nonetheless. “Bratty, aren’t you, baby?”

“When I want to be,” Changbin easily admits. He turns a little to meet Minho’s heated stare, holding eye contact without backing down. “But I like being good far more.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Minho replies, drinking in the sight of Changbin’s back arching as he turns around once again. Looking round seems too uncomfortable an angle to sustain. Minho enjoys Changbin like this, at his mercy and tensed in anticipation. Idly, Minho traces the slight dimples at the small of his back, watching the goosebumps follow after each touch. As cute a look as sweater paws are on Minho, they only get in the way at times like these, so he rolls up his sleeves a little, pink knit bunching up to mid forearm. Painstakingly slow, even as Changbin whines and tries to push up to meet him, Minho’s hand trails lower, dipping between his asscheeks until at last he’s circling where Changbin really wants him. Not quite touching, just tracing over where he’s slightly puffy from prepping himself. _In Minho’s shower._ Because apparently that’s something that Changbin does. Minho is fine.

Attacked by thoughts of Changbin working himself open, Minho shudders as they rush over him. Minho is _not_ fine. At least he can comfort himself by sending the pretty boy beneath him to far worse a state. Gently, though not from any misconception that Changbin couldn’t take more than what he’s allowing, Minho presses the pad of his thumb over Changbin’s rim, feeling it _contract, relax, repeat,_ twitching under his touch. _“Please,”_ Changbin gasps out, hips shifting in search of something more than just this. Retaliatory, Minho bends to brush a kiss over the base of his spine, pausing before he moves further. The unsaid _‘keep going’_ rings in the air between them, and Changbin is all too eager to oblige. “Please,” he repeats, over and over, “please, hyung, please, please pl- _Fuck!”_

Minho has ducked lower, dropped to his knees at his desk like it’s a shrine, and Changbin is his to worship. Still deliberately soft, too soft for either of their likings, really, he’s pressed a kiss to Changbin’s rim, making him cry out like that. He pulls back, biting lightly at one of his asscheeks just to hear that cutely startled sound once more. “Keep begging,” Minho warns, tone light but implication serious, “Or I stop.”

The stream of pleas starts up again immediately, and Minho keeps his word in turn, grabbing Changbin’s unfairly pretty ass and pulling his cheeks apart for easier access. More purpose in his movements beyond merely teasing him this time, Minho flattens his tongue and licks over Changbin’s hole _hard,_ startling another yelp out of him, interspersed between his pleading. Unwilling to deny himself for much longer, Minho only drags it out insofar as circling around with soft swirls of his tongue a few times before he moves further. Changbin whimpers, and Minho feels his thighs tensing where he rests against them, seizing up entirely the moment Minho’s tongue dips past his rim. _“Ah!”_ he whines, a staccato little sound, “Hyung, please, more please, hyung-” 

Even his begging dissolves into mere garbled whimpers the moment Minho’s tongue spears deeper, but Minho doesn’t blame him for it. He has a plethora of past testimonies on how good his tongue can feel, and Changbin’s coping better than some. He used to send Jisung beyond sound fairly often when they did this, and Seungmin too, on occasion. Neither of them are particularly on Minho’s mind at the moment, however. Not with Changbin writhing under him just from his tongue, choking out his name as Minho grabs his hips to fuck Changbin back onto his face. It’s messy as hell, Minho’s tastebuds cloying with the taste of artificial cherry and the air ringing with those lewdly wet sounds that can only stem from something like this. Changbin whimpering, desperate. Minho’s tongue fucking into him over and over, teeth scraping at the tender skin and leaving Changbin’s hole shiny with saliva when he finally pulls back to let himself properly breathe. Part of Minho is tempted to make him come just from this. “Feel good, baby?”

Changbin pants, trying to regain control of his breathing. It seems to be a losing struggle. “How are you real?”

Minho gets that a lot, and he says as such. 

“Cocky bastard,” Changbin bites back, a temporary switch to English, breathing still unsteady and thoroughly derailing any weight to his words. 

“You like it.” It isn’t even a question. Minho _knows._

Still, Changbin answers. “I do,” he admits, unashamedly. “I’d like _it_ more if _it_ was your dick, though. Just putting that out there.”

“Aww, want me to fuck you, huh, Binnie?” The question is as good as rhetorical when they both so clearly know the answer. He pokes teasingly at where his tongue had just been, Changbin sighing contentedly from just Minho’s pointer finger, and only the tip of it at that. He’s still such a tight little thing, and Minho knows they’ll need more prep than this. Luckily, prep is one of Minho’s favourite parts of a night, whether it be on himself or his partner. There’s just something so enjoyable in the buildup to conclusion. “How much?”

“More than anything.”

“Bold words...”

“I’ve wanted you since I saw you on that stage, hyung,” Changbin reminds him, “Knowing you as a person only made it worse.”

Something about that sentence twists in Minho’s chest. He thinks of countless coffee visits, of pickup lines and sweet slanted smiles and giggles, of thighs pressed together under a too-small cafe table. Of how Changbin has been pursuing him for months, not giving up despite Minho’s obliviousness to him being serious. Part of Minho wants to ask exactly how Changbin wants him, whether it’s just for this — Minho pushes his finger a little deeper, and Changbin whimpers — or if there’s more. Perhaps Minho’s being oblivious again. Right now, he doesn’t care to discuss it. “So pretty,” he says instead, rewarded by another sweet whine. “Such a pretty baby for hyung, aren’t you, Binnie?”

_“Please,_ hyung,” Changbin chokes a little on his desperation. Or perhaps it’s on the feeling of Minho pulling his hand away and leaving him empty. 

In an uncharacteristic display of weakness, for Minho is usually harder to persuade than this, he relents. Changbin is _ruinously_ cute. “Let’s get you on the bed, then, sweetheart.”

Changbin is eager, oh so eager, as he scrambles out of Minho’s hold, pushing off the desk and throwing himself onto Minho’s bed. It’s enthusiastic enough that he bounces on landing, coming to rest against the pillows. He watches Minho, waiting for him to get with the program with his flushed cock trapped between his palm and his stomach. Changbin doesn’t move his hand, doesn’t properly touch, but Minho guesses it takes off the edge just a little. “Hyung’s gonna fuck me now, right?”

Minho would say he’s hinging on desperation, but in reality Changbin has long passed that hurdle. Changbin now, he’s a mess of neediness, all bundled up and pretty and trying to pretend he’s not quite as far gone as he actually is. Minho’s own voice cracks as he replies, throat closed up with want. Changbin isn’t the only one who’s been dreaming of this for a long time, only Minho had never considered it a viable possibility until recently. “Do you really think hyung can resist you, Binnie?”

A startled blink from Changbin, and Minho is closing the distance, pushing the irresistibly pretty boy down against the sheets. Changbin is naked and bucking up against him where Minho pushes between his thighs fully clothed, and it’s one more level to their dynamic that only turns Minho on more. Still, Minho’s hurting in his trousers from how hard he is, so he decides now is the time to even the ground in that regard. When he sits back to pull at his sweater, however, Minho finds his hands batted away as Changbin tugs it over Minho’s head instead. “Finally,” he huffs out, lower lip jutted out a little in an indignant pout. “I was beginning to think I’d _never_ get to see hyung naked.”

“You’re so damn needy,” Minho laughs, Changbin’s fingers now making short work of the buttons on his shirt.

“Ah, but hyung likes needy, right?” Changbin retorts, ducking to nip at one of Minho’s collarbones and giggling when it makes him jump. When Minho takes too long to answer, Changbin pokes him in the side. _“Right?”_

“Yes, you little gremlin,” Minho pokes him right back, making the younger man yelp. He’s sensitive, though Minho had already gleaned as such. Changbin’s done unbuttoning his shirt, and Minho shrugs it off before tossing it to the side. “Would I be about to fuck the neediest boy on the damn _planet_ if I didn’t, hm?”

Changbin palms at Minho’s crotch, further proving his point. “Want you, hyung.”

“Funnily enough,” Minho says, and it’s cute how Changbin’s breath catches as he unbuckles his belt, “I had noticed.”

“Stop teasing me,” Changbin whines, drawing out his words and pouting. 

“Oh, but Binnie _likes_ being teased, no?” Minho counters, watching Changbin’s cheeks darken as he looks away, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact. Even if he doesn’t outright admit it, it’s obvious. Minho ducks down to kiss him, biting the pout off his lips until Changbin’s too brainless to keep complaining. Or so Minho thinks, but the pout reappears seconds after they stop, though Changbin is panting heavily now. 

_“Hyung.”_ Changbin arches his neck. Minho would be a liar if he said it wasn’t a sinfully tempting sight. He pops the button on his trousers, a little more hurriedly, and lets Changbin undo the zipper when he scrambles once more to help. Changbin’s thumbs hook into Minho’s boxers, and he looks up for affirmation Minho quickly provides. Finally, Minho is freed as Changbin tugs down his boxers and trousers as one, right down to mid thigh. “Hyung’s cock is so nice,” Changbin smiles, trailing a finger down the length of him appreciatively, thumbing at the tip and giggling as he twitches. “Can’t tell where I wanna put it first.” 

Changbin looks up at Minho. Blinks his wide eyes once, twice. Something _twists_ in Minho’s gut, and suddenly he can’t get his damn clothes off fast enough. 

It takes a moment or so, and Minho is infinitely glad he isn’t wearing skinny jeans, then finally they’re equally bare. Minho’s clothes lay discarded in a pile next to his bed, but right now he doesn’t care about the mess. Minho doesn’t care about much other than _this_ right now, because Changbin is pretty and waiting for him, and Minho thinks that he’s waited long enough. Reaching into his bedside drawer, Minho pulls out his lube (he has several bottles, one of which stays in the shower) and hands it to Changbin while he rummages around for a condom. It’s been a while since Minho has needed one, but thankfully there’s still a couple in there. 

When Minho turns back after too long spent searching, the lube is already open in Changbin’s hand, and he looks Minho dead in the eyes as he sinks two fingers into himself. It’s challenging, the look in his eyes, the slight tilt to his lips. Changbin is so annoyingly attractive that Minho both wants to both kill him and kiss the infuriating smile off his face. _What the fuck has Minho gotten himself into?_ Nothing, yet. That’s the root of the problem. “Changbin, what are you doing?” Minho asks, forcing himself to speak slowly, a level of calm that doesn’t match his current inner turmoil. He can’t think of anything he’s ever wanted more than he wants Changbin right now, and its dizzying in its intensity. 

“Take a wild guess,” Changbin replies, sarcasm and breathlessness combined. He crooks his fingers and lets out a sweet little gasp, and Minho can’t help but want to pull them free to replace them with his own. Partly to take back control, and partly because Minho just _wants_ to. There’s something enthralling about the view of Changbin fucking himself open for Minho like this, though. So Minho lets him continue, drinking in the sight as Changbin puts on a show, whining every step of the way. 

“You’re going to be the end of me, Changbin,” Minho sighs, resigned to that fact.

“The feeling’s mutual, hyung,” Changbin replies with a smile, slightly strained as he moves his hand against himself but pretty nonetheless. 

At the third finger, Minho pushes two of his own past Changbin’s parted lips, aching at the sight of him sucking on them like he’s made for this. Changbin swirls his tongue around Minho’s fingers, bobbing his head down a little to bring them deeper. It’s obvious that he’s imitating what it would be like to have those soft lips around Minho’s cock. As much as Minho yearns for that, however, he wants to fuck Changbin first and foremost. Plus, he’s sure Changbin will still want to suck him off later on— if Changbin has demonstrated anything to Minho thus far, it’s that waiting doesn’t dissipate his want. 

Changbin pulls off Minho’s fingers with a _pop,_ and kisses his fingertips before leaning back. “Mmm,” he hums, tongue darting across his lips, “Cherry.”

Minho’s breath catches in his throat, and he chokes on it, coughing a little. Changbin smiles at him, and Minho wraps a hand around Changbin’s neglected cock to wipe the smug look from his face. It works, Changbin’s lips falling open and eyes rolling back at the combination of his own fingers and Minho’s hand. Minho thumbs the head of Changbin’s cock perhaps a little harsher than necessary, and Changbin’s hips cant up to chase it, letting out so desperate a moan that Minho almost gives in at once. But not quite.

“Hyung, please,” Changbin changes his tune, less wanton and more imploring.

“I like you more like this, Binnie,” Minho remarks, smoothing the precum Changbin’s leaking over his cock to ease the slide of his hand. Changbin rocks down onto his own fingers in time with Minho’s movements, giving up control over pace entirely. “You’re cuter when you’re not acting like a little slut.” 

“Hyung-” Changbin chokes out, desperate beyond anything Minho’s seen yet — and that’s saying something. 

_God, how can Minho deny him?_

Minho can’t. “Binnie, move your fingers, baby.”

Changbin complies at once, pulling them free and wiping his hand on the sheets beside him. He goes to fist his cock as he watches Minho tear open a condom sachet, but freezes at a shake of Minho’s head. Compliantly, he rests his hands back down on the bed, clutching a little to hold himself back. Patient, and Changbin has been _so_ patient these past few months, he waits for Minho with his legs spread wide. “You want me like this, hyung, or should I flip over?”

Both are tempting, but Minho _needs_ to see the look on Changbin’s face when he gets filled up. He’s going to be absolutely adorable, Minho’s sure of it. “Like this is fine, baby.” Minho rolls the condom down onto his dick, fighting the urge to fuck into his hand from his own desperation. “My Binnie’s so pretty like this.”

It slips out before Minho realises it, the possessive lean to his words, and he freezes a little. _‘My_ Binnie’ seems a little much for a hookup, though it belies how Minho wants things to continue, if he’s entirely honest with himself. Changbin notices, Minho sees it in the slight widening of his eyes, and the way his cock jumps a little against his stomach, precum pooling where it rests. _Changbin likes it._ Well, that bodes well, at least. Changbin opens and closes his mouth, visibly hesitating, and then he finally speaks. “Are you-” Another pause, another hesitation. “Are you gonna fuck your Binnie then, hyung?” There’s a nervous lilt to Changbin’s words, and he can’t quite seem to meet Minho’s eyes. Minho’s heart twists like something’s physically pulling at it, and he crowds between Changbin’s legs, pressing him down onto the bed to kiss him.

It’s half romance and half physical, kiss sweet but their cocks rubbing together where Minho’s body is near melded to his. This feels fitting somehow, murmured praises against Changbin’s lips as he rocks down against him and makes him gasp, but Minho wants even more than this, greedy and wanting and offered all he could ask for from the sweet boy whining beneath him. Minho wants him so much, so _much,_ and Changbin encourages him, fumbling blindly beside them and then pushing the lube bottle into Minho’s hands pointedly. “Changbin,” Minho pants, wanting his name on his lips rather than saying anything in particular.

_“Please,”_ Changbin replies, answering a question unasked. Somewhere between the snap of a bottlecap and a soft hand guiding Minho home, he finds himself pushed inside Changbin to the hilt. 

Changbin’s whining fit to wake the dead, and certainly enough to ensure a snide letter from Minho’s neighbours that he can’t find it in himself to care about right now. Right now, all he cares about is this, their foreheads resting together as Changbin adjusts to his cock. Changbin twitches around Minho while he whines and shifts his hips, and Minho’s arms shake while he braces himself either side of him. An amalgamation of how long it’s been and how much Minho wants him, Changbin feels better than anything Minho has ever had. 

“Hyung,” Changbin murmurs, soft enough it’s almost to himself, over and over. “Hyung, hyung, _hyung.”_

“Hyung’s here, Binnie,” Minho reassures, leaning down to brush his lips against heated skin, kissing Changbin’s forehead. “You’re being so good for me, baby, take all the time you need.” 

To Minho, it seems like Changbin can’t quite believe that this is real. He’s somehow fragile, caged beneath Minho like this, strength giving way to the need to feel small. Changbin’s eyes are vulnerable when he looks up at him. “You really want me, right?”

Minho thinks it’s been a while for Changbin, too— perhaps as long as he’s wanted Minho. From how desperate he is, Minho wouldn’t rule it out. Changbin whines a little, and Minho rushes to reassure him. He can’t even consider teasing him right now. “Of course hyung wants you, baby. Who wouldn’t want someone like you?”

“Don’t care,” Changbin’s voice is still small, but his breathing is coming steadier now. Minho can feel as he relaxes around him, bit by bit. “Don’t _care,”_ he repeats, “about anyone else. Only want you.”

Perhaps it’s from the heat of the moment, but even to Minho’s oblivious ears that sounds like a confession. “You’re so cute,” he replies instead of acknowledging it, worried that Changbin just has a purely sexual thing for possessiveness and that Minho could be reading all of this wrong. Logic wants to smack Minho upside the head, but he’s still adjusting to all of this, to Changbin wanting him. “Such a pretty baby.” Changbin pouts, and somehow Minho knows why. Fuck it. _“My_ pretty baby,” he corrects.

Under Minho, Changbin _glows._ He shifts his hips, sighing in something like content. Minho wonders if it means he’s ready. “Fuck me, hyung?” Changbin answers him before he can check. “Ready now, please?”

Minho’s hands are tight on Changbin’s hips, and when he looks down he sees light bruises already forming from the time he’s been waiting. Changbin doesn’t seem to mind— Minho suspects he probably likes it, being marked up like that. Minho does himself, and rather hopes Changbin will repay him in kind next time. “Can I?” Minho checks, and perhaps it’s cruel how he longs to hear him beg. He won’t make him wait too long, though, and he suspects his next statement will make up for it. “Can hyung fuck his pretty baby?”

As Changbin nods and whines _yes, yes, yes, please,_ over and over again, he has the look of someone who’s just fought past coming untouched by the skin of his teeth. It’s a look Minho knows well, one he’s caused many times. It’s adorable how close Changbin is already just from how much he wants him. To be fair, Minho’s much the same as soon as he starts to move at last, albeit disguised by an attempt at an unaffected facade. Changbin is spread wide and willing, yet so tight it’s like he’s sucking him in each time Minho’s hips snap forwards. This tension is nothing new— it’s been building up for months, but now it feels finally pulled taut, ready to snap from the outset of finally giving in to him. Minho could have had this sooner, if he’d only let himself consider that Changbin could be serious in his pursuit.

This isn’t just a hookup, it’s the culmination of months spent waking up embarrassed and sticky with Changbin’s name still fresh off his lips. It’s months of remembering again and _again_ what Changbin had felt like at that party every time he sees him, wanting to lean across the desk and kiss the stupid pickup lines of Changbin’s stupid, pretty lips and _holding back._ Because _Changbin wasn’t serious, right?_

God, Minho’s been such a fool.

Changbin claws at his back as Minho fucks out his frustration. He has pretty nails that are definitely going to leave marks, and that’s _good,_ becuase when they twinge they’ll serve as a reminder that Minho was stupid to think that Changbin hasn’t wanted him all this time. Minho is overcome by how good he feels, how good he _is_ for him, letting out little _oh, oh_ sounds with each snap of Minho’s hips, eyes teary and pleading. Sparkling. Changbin is ethereal when he’s being ruined like this. 

Dimly, it dawns on Minho that Changbin is ruining him too. Beyond ruining him, in fact. He sees Changbin’s eyes widen as he realises in turn, for Changbin hadn’t even been trying, really. Changbin is so pretty that Minho can’t take it, though, so tight that Minho _can’t,_ and by the time the precipice comes hurtling into sight it’s too late to slow himself down. _His baby just feels so good._ “Changbin, I-” he tries to say, but his words are overtaken by a moan as Changbin’s nails dig in, pulling him closer, urging him deeper. 

“I know,” Changbin gasps out, and Minho isn’t the only one near to losing it. He’ll fall first, though, of that he’s sure. “It’s okay, hyung. Want you to.” 

“You haven’t-”

“I want to see you come.” His bluntness is jarringly attractive, Changbin entirely honest about what he wants. “Worry about me after, I _want_ this, hyung. You’re so hot like this, wanna make you come, _please_ hyung.”

Minho trembles, shaking fingers grasping at Changbin’s hips, wobbling legs nearly buckling. Changbin grabs at him, trying to fuck himself on Minho’s cock to reach the ending he wants, and Minho quite simply loses his mind. Changbin’s name leaves his lips in a strangled moan, and Minho spills into the condom, imagining it’s not there and that he’s filling him up. His baby would be gorgeous leaking trails of white. Changbin whimpers under him as Minho’s hips stutter through his orgasm, and when Minho goes to pull out he loudly protests, grabbing onto him again to stop his attempts. Changbin is strong enough that he _can_ stop Minho, trapping their bodies together, and so Minho has to reason with him verbally. His voice is hoarse as he speaks, but Changbin seems to like it, cock twitching between them. “Binnie,” he implores, “let hyung go, baby.”

Changbin shakes his head petulantly, arms around Minho like a vice. Minho won’t deny how hot the loss of power is. “Don’t _want_ to, hyung. Like you in me.”

It’s evident that Changbin likes closeness when he’s, well, _close,_ but Minho has something better in mind. “Do you want hyung to get you off like this, or do you want to come in hyung’s mouth, hm?”

The arms around Minho loosen immediately, and Minho would laugh if he wasn’t so enraptured by the way Changbin’s face scrunches up in defeat. “...Second one.”

“Good boy, Binnie,” Minho praises as he’s finally released completely, and though it’s awkward to pull out while kissing Changbin to distract him, Minho somehow manages it. “Hyung’s gonna take such good care of his baby.”

It feels more dangerous now, calling Changbin his, now that Minho’s brain is a little calmer. Changbin likes it, though, and so Minho uses the fact Changbin hasn’t come yet as feeble justification to continue the possessive tone. He can’t help but tease him, though only a little, biting at Changbin’s piercings briefly as he trails open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of Changbin’s torso. He bucks and whines, and Minho murmurs reassurances against his heated skin every step of the way until finally he stops at the trimmed patch of hair above Changbin’s soaking cock. Looking up at him, at Changbin propped up against the pillows all pretty, Minho’s heart skips a beat at the sheer _want_ in Changbin’s gaze as their eyes meet. 

“Hyung’s so pretty like this,” Changbin tells him softly, and it half feels like an admission of something more. Minho _aches._

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Minho jokes as he wraps a hand around him, a knee-jerk response to the way his feelings scare him right now. He’s known they were there for a while, but the possibility of reciprocation is terrifying in a whole other way.

Changbin doesn’t indulge his cowardly attempt at lightening the mood. Minho’s glad of it though, really. “Just you,” Changbin replies, as open and honest as ever. Changbin has always been honest with Minho, really. Minho had just never noticed. “Only you, hyung.”

There’s no way for even Minho to misinterpret words like those, but they’re something he’ll deal with after he’s got Changbin off. It’s not the worst thing ever for him to come first when topping, but as a general rule Minho doesn’t prefer it, least of which because he adores the feeling of a pretty boy coming on his cock. He’s been deprived of that this time, and while he doesn’t plan on topping the next time they fuck he’s near sure he’ll get a do-over where that’s concerned. He _hopes_ so, at least. Changbin is certainly giving all the signals of someone who doesn’t want this to be a one night stand. 

Minho laps at the head of Changbin’s cock, and Changbin whines like he’s being fucked all over again. “Cutest baby,” Minho coos, pecking a kiss to the tip and giggling as it makes Changbin’s hips jolt up off the bed in search of more. “My pretty, _pretty_ Binnie.”

“Please, hyung,” Changbin begs for what must be the hundredth time this night, or more still. 

Honestly, Minho thinks that Changbin has waited enough. Reaching between Changbin’s thighs, Minho indulges in the gasp Changbin lets out as he pushes two fingers back into his stretched hole, gently moving them in and out, feeling Changbin twitch around him. “Could make you come just like this,” Minho muses, “but hyung wants you in his mouth, pretty baby.”

That’s all the warning Changbin gets, only enough for his eyes to widen as Minho takes Changbin’s cock in his free hand and guides it back to his mouth. This time, Minho doesn’t stop at the tip, humming around him as his lips move further and further down his length. Changbin is thick enough that it’s a stretch, something Minho _really_ wants to feel in his ass, but for now he’s content with looking up at Changbin through his lashes and watching him fall apart bit by bit. Minho always holds back on relaying this particular detail in advance, the fact he’s trained his gag reflex to the point of near non-existence. A party trick, if you will, and one that’s blowing Changbin’s mind. Minho holds himself there for a few seconds, tip of his nose brushing against the patch of hair above Changbin’s cock as he carries on fingering him through it. Changbin keens as he slowly pulls off, a high pitched, sweet little noise that Minho can’t get enough of.

“Holy fuck, hyung,” Changbin gasps out, grinding back against Minho’s fingers as Minho trails his tongue around his cock, getting it all messy. “How the _fuck?”_

“I can teach you later,” Minho replies, and feels his own spent cock twitching at the thought. He’s already nearly hard again, he realises, just from having Changbin in his mouth. Minho adores giving oral, more than just about anyone he’s ever slept with (Hyunjin wins, _just,_ and that had only been one tipsy hookup after a show). And Changbin? Changbin has possibly the prettiest dick Minho has ever had the pleasure of spoiling. It’s not just Minho’s dick that likes the idea; Changbin spurts precum over Minho’s lips, and he licks it off. It’s not unpleasant— Changbin must eat well, which makes sense with how often he obviously works out. “You like that idea, Binnie? Want to suck on hyung’s cock?”

“Y-Yeah,” Changbin stutters out, flush high on his cheeks, pink as he rocks against Minho with little whimpers. Minho fucks another pretty moan out of him with his fingers crooked, and laps up the pooling precum before it can spill over. “Close, hyung,” Changbin chokes out the second Minho goes to take him in again, and Minho pulls back to speak.

“Can you do something for your hyung, Binnie?”

“Anything,” Changbin replies, fast enough that _anything_ almost doesn’t sound like a word at all, jumbled in his haste. It’s beyond cute.

“Fuck my mouth.” Minho says it bluntly, and feels Changbin clench around his fingers at the prospect. _Cute._ “Fuck hyung’s mouth and come in it, hm? Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Oh fuck.”

“Can you, Binnie? For hyung?” Minho prompts, and Changbin hurries to nod. “Good boy.”

Minho lets himself hang slack for Changbin to use, and moans around him at the first tentative twitch of his hips. Minho _loves_ oral, loves cock in his mouth and loves eating pretty boys out, but of all of it he loves this the most. Nothing turns Minho on quite like getting his mouth fucked. Gradually, Changbin builds up the pace, spurred on by both Minho’s muffled moans and the way he times his fingers along with Changbin’s thrusts. Minho can’t help shifting his own hips against the mattress, either, his own neediness melding with Changbin’s, moans triggering moans, a desperate cycle. 

When Changbin comes, it’s without warning. It takes them both by surprise, Minho too distracted by his own want to notice the signs, and Changbin too overcome to notice himself falling. Minho almost chokes on the sudden flow of cum, but manages to swallow it down, licking his lips when he pulls back to catch the dribbles at the corners of his mouth. 

Changbin’s hands thread through Minho’s hair, soothing the tenderness left by having it pulled. “That was incredible,” he says in awe, "Hyung's so pretty like this." _Honest, ever honest._ It’s Changbin petting Minho’s hair, Changbin murmuring praise and calling him pretty in that softly fucked out tone, that sends Minho over the edge for the second time that day, startling Changbin with how loud he moans as he messes up his sheets even more. “Hyung, did you just- Again?”

Minho nods, a little embarrassed. The tables have turned, and it’s him left blushing now. “Maybe?”

Rather than any of the responses Minho had been irrationally worried about, Changbin bypasses words and just kisses him instead, pulling Minho up to meet him. “Thats,” _Changbin kisses him again,_ “so,” _and again,_ “fucking hot, hyung.”

“Oh.” Minho giggles. He doesn’t know why he’d been nervous. Changbin seems to like everything about Minho, so it makes sense that he’d find this hot. “That’s good.”

“I know I am,” Changbin replies, laughing at his own joke the second he’s finished the sentence. Well, it’s not _really_ a joke, not if it’s true.

“You’re cute,” Minho replies, feeling all too fond. He looks between them, at the mess they’ve made combined. “We should probably, like, clean up before we get all crusty.”

“Such a gentleman,” Changbin jibes, but sits up a bit more nonetheless. He makes grabby hands at Minho, pouting until he relents and helps him the rest of the way. “You know, you should really carry me after the number you’ve done on my poor ass,” he remarks, overexaggerating a limp as they head towards the bathroom with Changbin’s arm slung around Minho’s shoulders.

“We can’t all have Herculean strength, Seo,” Minho bites back. He pauses, hinging on danger, but pushes forward regardless. “You can carry me next time, though.” They’re both relatively level headed, now. The hinting at a continuation of.. _this..._ feels more dangerous than ever, but Minho wants it too much to not take the risk. 

“Next time?” Changbin checks. He has that same look about him that he’d had when asking if Minho really wanted him. They’re suspended in nerves, the two of them, as they pause in front of Minho’s bathroom door. 

“If you _want_ a next time, Changbin, I’m all yours.” Minho doesn’t hide behind hinting at what he wants, this time. Changbin’s honesty has brought them here, and Minho feels he owes him the same.

“I’ve wanted you this long, and you think I’ll stop?” Changbin scoffs. He uses the arm around his neck to pull Minho down to kiss him. Minho’s a little dizzy when they break apart. “Only want you, remember?”

It hadn’t been heat of the moment, then. Not that Minho had really believed it to be at all. “Come on, baby,” he says as he opens the door. The word ‘baby’ feels heavier now, but in a good way. 

_When they reach it, Minho’s shower still smells like cherry._

**Author's Note:**

> Any guesses as to who wrote this? Check out when it's revealed - I wonder who'll guess me right :')
> 
> [will update with twt links etc once anonymity is lifted] 
> 
> <3
> 
> update!! it's me, v xx
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/scbaes)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/minbinnie)


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